


you taste like the 4th of july

by sovietghoststories (lucid_lies)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/sovietghoststories
Summary: The reader and Steve inhale a strange chemical in the lab. It affects them more than expected.





	you taste like the 4th of july

**Author's Note:**

> X posted w/ tumblr.

“DON’T–!”

The warning comes too late. The beaker bursts on impact, shattered glass covering the tile. Thick plumes of smoke rise from the wreckage with a low hiss. A sharp, spicy scent impregnates the air, sitting heavy in your nose.   
  
Eyes burning, you stumble towards the nearest wall, upending several pieces of expensive lab equipment. It’s impossible to navigate and keep your mouth covered. Whatever this chemical is that’s spreading through the lab, you’ve already inhaled several lungfuls. Oddly enough, you taste it on your lips, smooth and full of heat. It’s not unpleasant in the least, like spiced chocolate. It can’t be that dangerous.   
  
On the opposite side of the room, Captain Rogers isn’t fairing any better. A stifled cough chases the air from his lungs. All he manages is a strained, “You okay, [Y/N]?”

“Yeah, I think-” A coughing fit interrupts your sentence, so intense your ribs ache and your stomach hurts when the attack lulls into a harsh wheeze. The air is strangely heavy. Your mind grows fuzzy around the edges, full of cotton and a foreign heat begins to gather in the pit of your stomach. “I…I think I’m okay, just a bit dizzy. Did it get warmer in here?”

Spectator to the destruction of his lab and the drugging of his friends, Bruce scrubs a hand over his face. “Oh, this is so not good.” 

* * *

You learn that the Tower’s walls are surprisingly thin the hard way. You’re back in your apartment after the debacle at the lab, stripped bare and slowly dying on your couch as your body temperature continues to rise. It’s all normal and to be expected ™, says Bruce.   
  
Of course, the chemical released had to be some fucking alien aphrodisiac thing. The strongest of its kind, or so you’re told. That means for the next few hours, you’re going to be hornier than you’ve ever been in your entire life but it’s all good. 

Under no circumstances are you supposed to scratch the itch, as it is. It seems a good old-fashioned exchange of bodily fluids is the only cure. Seeing as you’re woefully single and pining after a very uninterested Captain of the Avengers, you’re just gonna wait it out which is easier said than done. 

But it’s fine, everything’s fine. You got this, easy peasy. At least, you do until you unconsciously start to grind down on the couch cushion. When the edge catches your clit, you crumble. 

You gasp and tremble, a shockwave of pleasure zipping up and down your spine. Everything feels heightened, and you’re aware of your body in a way you never were. You feel every inch of the rough fabric against your cunt, every dip and ridge bringing forth a new sensation.   
  
It’s not your proudest moment but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. You ride the cushion until it’s a mess, large wet patches clearly visible. When that doesn’t work, you change positions, sitting right on the edge and rocking back and forth. It feels incredible but brings little relief and a whole lot of desperation.   
  
The hotter you get, the more and more worked up you get until you’re grabbing fistfuls of the cushion and thrusting so fast you’re going to be chaffed come morning. Nothing’s working and you should have heeded Bruce’s warning but now that you’ve started you can’t stop. 

There’s a fire in the pit of your stomach. It’s only burning brighter and stronger with every frantic flick of your clit. It’ll swallow you whole, and fuck, but you just might let it. 

Everything’s a blur but you somehow make it to your bedroom, fever hot and dripping slick everywhere. Your thighs are drenched, and your body’s shaking. You’ve never been this wet, the cool gusts of air as you shift teasing your slit. 

You’re needy and half dazed with arousal. It’s a miracle you manage to open the bedside drawer and grab your dildo. It’s your favourite, thick all around with a fat head and a nice curve to the shaft. It never fails to make you come hard and fast.   
  
No prep work’s needed, cunt so ready to be filled you have a hard time getting the head in because it keeps slipping. Kneeling, you balance the toy between you and the mattress. You keep a firm hold on the base, working the tip in until you can sit down without it falling over. 

Immediately every nerve ending is on fire. Teeth sink into your bottom lip as you choke down a scream. Your walls flutter around the fake cock, thighs shaking and eyes rolling shut. 

“Holy s-shit,” you gasp, body jerking involuntarily, “F-F-Fuck that feels amazing.”   
  
It’s been a long time since simple penetration like this really got you going. Maybe you’ve just been having shitty sex, maybe it’s the alien aphrodisiac. You couldn’t care less, all you know is that liquid fire is crawling through your veins and you’re so horny it hurts. 

Starting off, you use your legs to bounce up and down softly. The bed rocks with your movements and while it hits all the right spots, there’s something unsatisfying. Empty, like something is missing.   
  
Growing bored, you spread your thighs a little wider and reach down to grab ahold of the dildo, pumping it in and out of your pussy. Pleasure oozes down your spine, gathering in your belly. Your free hand kneads your breast, fingernails scraping along your puckered nipple. A loud moan escapes you.  
  
Now this is more like it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, spreading your thighs wider and tilting your hips so you don’t lose that perfect angle. The bulbous head of the dildo slams into your g-spot with every hurried thrust. Your wrist aches but you’ll be damned if you stop. You’re right at the edge, soaked and swollen and so ready to fucking come, you’ll do anything. “Right there! F-Fuck, please, come on, make me come.”

Whining high in the back of your throat, you shove the sex toy in to the hilt. You feel the slide of every inch spreading you open wide, stuffing your needy cunt full of fake cock and It’s. Not. Enough. 

The dildo rests inside you cold and lifeless, the space above you empty, the only taste on your lips your own. The reality that you can’t bring yourself to that glorious peak, that you don’t have anyone to help get you there, breaks you.

The dildo smacks against the wall, bouncing off to land several feet away on the floor. It’s covered in your slick, glittering mockingly under the dimmed lights. A sob tears open the dam. The next thing you know, you’re crying and it’s not pretty, huge painful heaves that leave you short of breath.

An undercurrent of suffocating loneliness cuts through you, its presence made even more apparent with every throb of your neglected clit. You’re having a breakdown and your body can’t take a hint, still as horny (if not more so) than when you got back from the lab. It’s confusing and disorienting being pulled in so many directions, emotions an utterly tangled mess. You can’t tell if you want to be dicked down hard or kissed and cuddled. 

What’s even more painful is that you don’t have anyone to do either with. 

A knock interrupts the wallowing, and you get out of bed with a sniffle, tugging on a robe half-heartedly. The terrycloth scrapes against your skin uncomfortably, itchy in uncomfortable places and far too warm.   
  
When you answer the door, you’re not expecting to see him, especially with that expression on his face. Standing before you and filling up the doorway with his broad frame is Captain Rogers. His eyes are dark and fathomless, like a storm at sea. The plush curve of his mouth is red and raw, like he’s been chewing on his lips. 

You’ve got an idea of what you must look like, and it’s confirmed by the clench of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. Clearing your throat, your eyes drop to your feet and your hand holds the robe closed around your neck. 

“Captain Rogers, I wasn’t expecting to see you so…soon.”   
  
He doesn’t respond, hands clenched into fists at his sides.   
  
“Well, um…you see, now’s not really, really a good time. For me.” You’re already making your retreat, shuffling back behind the door. “When I’m feeling better, I can stop by…?”

Something in him snaps in the face of your withdrawal. One moment you’re staring at the floor, about to close the door and the next, you’re shoved face first against it. The lock clicks shut from somewhere around your hip.   
  
You don’t stop the hands that grab at your robe, yanking it from your body with so much force you jerk and the sound of tearing fabric fills the loaded silence. 

“Tell me to go.” His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, his hips curving against your ass as the trunks of his arms wind around your waist. “Y/N, tell me to go and I will.”  
  
You sigh, unable to stop yourself from melting back into his embrace. The hard line of his cock twitches promisingly, digging into the supple plush of your ass. You arch your back, attempting to get him in between your thighs. Your pussy clenches at the thought of being held down and spread wide. The wanton roll of your hips has a positively low growl of appreciation rumbling from his chest, and his arms tighten around your torso.   
  
“D-Damnit.”   
  
The Steve Rogers cursing, even so mildly, startles and turns you on in equal measure. Usually so prim and proper, now look at him. A man brought to his knees by how much he wants to fuck you.   
  
“Y/N, please, tell me to go.” His voice is whiskey rough, those sinful lips of his trailing along the length of your neck, filth from a holy tongue whispered into your skin, “Because if I stay, I’m not stopping until you’re dripping come.”   
  
“Please, Captain Rogers, don’t go.” You don’t care how brazen it is, you snatch up one of his hands from around your hip and push it between your thighs. “I need you.”

Strong fingers nudge your core, testing your wetness. A choked off groan escapes the man behind you, the calloused pads dragging along the hood of your clit.   
  
“Fuck, call me Steve, baby.” Full lips follow the curve of your shoulder, digits inching closer and closer to your weeping entrance. “I could hear you next door, you know. God, I wish I could have seen how good you look fucking yourself.”

“Captain - Steve, oh god, please.”   
  
“Mm, were you thinking about me, hoping if you were loud enough I’d come over and take care of you? I was thinking about you.”   
  
A fingertip dips into your hole, thrusting shallowly. Your walls greedily latch on, trying to pull him in deeper and he chuckles.   
  
“Feeling greedy, baby?” 

A kiss ghosts over your cheekbone. Panting, you turn your head to gaze into Steve’s eyes. Your desire is reflected back at you, and his expression is just as greedy, hand tightening around your waist.   
  
“Yeah, me too,” Steve answers for you, already working on getting himself naked and the both of you into the bedroom. 

You’re on your hands and knees faster than you can process, Steve kneeling behind you. He spreads you open with a thumb, seeing how swollen and ready you are. 

“Well, aren’t you pretty. What do you want me to do?” he asks, using a forefinger to lightly tease your clit. “Come on, baby, use your words. Tell me what you want.” 

His dark, hungry gaze sears through you. A glimpse of him swiping his tongue across his bottom lip is enough to have you whimpering as another rush of slick drips down your slit. 

“Captain-”

“Steve.”

“Cap–Steve, please…”

He looks positively wicked. “Please what, baby?” he croons, tracing your folds.   
  
It’s positively maddening. He’s so close and yet so far. Groaning, you chase his touch but he’s always one step ahead, cruelly retreating if you manage to get him anywhere close to where you truly want him.

“S-Shit, Steve, baby, please. I want to come, I need to come.”  
  
“You want my fingers? Is that it, gorgeous girl?”  
  
You’re past the point of caring. You’ll do whatever it takes to get this stupidly gorgeous man inside you as fast as possible.   
  
“Fingers, cock, I don’t care.” Glancing over your shoulder, you catch his attention, expression pleading. “Please, Steve. I want it all, I’ll take whatever you give me just please let me come.”  
  
He descends with the ferocity of a beast, inflamed with passion. He kisses a path down your spine, biting a bruise or two and licking away the sting. He works his fingers into you one by one until you’re stuffed full with three. He drags the tips along your walls in a crooking motion, taking you apart piece by piece until you’re sweaty and screaming. 

“Come on, ride my fingers.” Steve pants, watching the stretch and grip of your cunt around three of his fingers, your walls soft and silky. The messy, wet sounds of every thrust fill his ears. Slick drips down his knuckles, soaking his hand and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s so hard he could cut glass. “That’s it, gorgeous girl, take it, take your pleasure. I wanna feel you come.”

Trembling, you collapse into the bed, ass raised high as you hump back onto Steve’s fingers. His scent, the heat of his body, the timbre of his voice, the crook of his fingers; it’s your undoing.  
  
“I’ve got you, Baby,” Steve says. “I’ve got you, it’s okay, let go. Come for me, Sweetheart.”  
  
Every muscle in your body tenses, pulled taut as you clench down hard. At the height of your orgasm, Steve presses up, massaging your g-spot and bringing you even higher. Completely falling to the bed, your mouth drops open in a near silent moan, voice cracking as the endorphins flood your body. Tiny trembles rock your frame. It’s the greatest rush, heartbeat pounding in your head. The fever recedes to the edges of your awareness, present and yet removed like an out of body experience.   
  
You return just in time to hear Steve murmur, “So fucking beautiful when you come. I can’t wait to taste you, baby.” Somewhere hidden deep inside squirms in happiness at the thought that he plans on doing this with you again.   
  
“[Y/N]?”   
  
Picking your head up takes a tremendous amount of effort but when you see what’s going on behind you, you wake up pretty damn quick. Steve’s leaning back on his haunches, brows low over his eyes, mouth dropping open as he strokes his cock with the hand covered in your come. The sight takes your breath away. He looks absolutely delicious.  
  
Mouth dry and the banked fire in your belly roaring to life once more, you arch your hips and spread your thighs so your glistening cunt is on full view. It’s an invitation if there ever was one.   
  
“Can I - please, I just - is this okay? You look sore.” 

Ever the sweetheart. For all his rough, tough talk, Steve cares too much about other people to truly take advantage. It’s one of his most endearing qualities, or would be if it wasn’t stopping him from fucking you into next week with that beautiful cock of his.   
  
“Steve, I’m okay. Please,” you sigh, wiggling your hips enticingly. His eyes track every movement. “I want to feel you inside me.”  
  
Large palms glide over your hips, kneading the flesh of your ass and holding you open. Firm thighs mould to yours as a strong chest hovers over your back. He sighs, his breath fanning over your shoulder.   
  
“Guide me.”  
  
Gladly.   
  
You reach under your bodies and grab his cock, the shaft hot and throbbing in your hand. It’s slightly awkward but every slide of the head along your slit feels like the most exquisite torture until it catches on your entrance and then he’s sliding home.   
  
You both gasp, pushing closer together to get him as deep as possible. Fingers dig into your hips, little spots of sweet pain in an ocean of pleasure. 

Steve fills every inch of you, pulling back only to thrust forward and do it all again.   
  
“O-Oh fuck, Steve,” you whine, scrambling to grab on to something. He’s right there, so thick all the right spots get pressed on the inthrust. “Just like that, oh god, please don’t stop.”   
  
He growls, hips pistoning back and forth as he sucks love bites into your skin wherever he can reach. “Goddamn it, you feel so good on my cock, baby.”  
  
“Ah! I’m gonna…”  
  
“Yeah, that’s it, come again. Come all over my cock.”   
  
Hips snapping forward roughly, Steve sends you halfway up the bed before his arms yank you back. The head slams so hard into your g-spot that you can’t help but come, gushing wetly around him.   
  
He curses, the feeling of your silky walls clenching down on him brings him embarrassingly close to the edge. He’s only able to get in half a dozen more sloppy thrusts before he comes. The last thrust sheaths him to the hilt, his hips jerking against yours. His cock empties inside you, filling your cunt with his come. Moaning softly at the sudden bloom of wet warmth, you swivel your hips and milk the last of his orgasm for all it’s worth.

Steve smothers his low, wounded groan in the side of your neck, teeth sneaking out to nip at your pulse point. His exit is followed by a rush of fluid that sticks to your thighs and stains your sheets.   

“[Y/N],” he breathes, sliding off your back and settling down beside you.

You hum in response, mind drifting further and further away as you snuggle deeper into the pillow. The overwhelming fever and the desperate need to get off dissipates with every breath. You’re going to be a walking mess of aches and pains tomorrow. Worth it. 

Half asleep, you inch closer to his warmth and murmur, “Steve.” 

Nothing more needs to be said out loud, it’s all there in the brush of his fingertips over your shoulder, the arm around your waist that pulls you back into a firm chest, the rustle of fabric as the comforter is pulled up and over your bodies, the kiss pressed to your temple.

“We’ll talk later, baby. Get some rest."


End file.
